UNTOUCHABLE YOU | MINSUNG

4

"Sometimes I think
All I'm ever doing is
Trying to convince myself I'm alive"
-the record player song-

-Flashback-

-Friday, June 3-

"You discuss me" Minho is thrown down to the ashy ground, his elbows rasped against the grey bricks, drawing warm blood out of the open wound, painting the bricks deep red. He burns down to urge to tear up due to the sharp sting; with not much success, however. He looks down, trying to bare the humiliation. Maybe biting his lips as hard as he can will help draw back the tears, he tries. Impressively, it works a bit.

The three big bullies stand above him, casting a 6-foot shadow above Minho who is helplessly thrown on the ground.

People are passing by from every direction, all acknowledging the scene of Minho being mercilessly bullied, but no one has even the slightest interest in helping. Suddenly the rusty old antiques in a small vintage store that no one dares to step into are way more interesting to the eyes of blind people.
Such bullshit. People are fucking hypocrites. They all pretend to be big saints, that will offer their open arms to every individual who needs their help; as long as it benefits them.

"Why are you crying? You should be fucking ashamed of yourself." One of the bullies spits out, kneeling to be the same height as Minho. He has blue faded overgrown hair and some of the most disgusting features. His face is covered with infected acne scars, he has some big swollen lips that nest under the most embarrassing peach fuzz mustache. His eyes are the exact color of mold and when he comes close enough, Minho can tell for sure the number of days the boy went without brushing his teeth, only by the smell.

Minho looks down at his scratched palms. He knows he can't talk back. He learned the tough way that every time he let his sarcastic and stingy personality against these douchebags, he got hit ten times harder.

Minho is not weak by any means, he had never missed an opportunity to punch someone who truly deserved it; but sadly, he was never blessed with the height features. And right now, when he sits on the ground under a group of 6'2 bullies, he has a slight disadvantage, to say the least.

"Look at me when I speak to you!" the same blue-haired guy says and grabs the collar of Minho's shirt, forcing him to look into his moldy rat eyes.
Minho truly wishes he had a toothbrush and some toothpaste to he could shove them both into his discussing throat.

Minho is so concentrated on not breathing the bully's cigarette breath that he is so surprised when he's shot back to the ground with a fist straight to his cheekbone.

The punch is so powerful that the pain is almost numbing, making him feel nothing. Only one second after the impact the pain comes rushing to his cheek with full force, making him want to scream.

Minho pressed the palm of his hand to his swollen cheek Bone to reduce the dizzying pain. He feels a warm liquid rolls down his wrist and trails down to his elbow where it finally drops to the ground. Surprisingly enough, he is bleeding again.

He removes his hand from his Cheek to look at the puddle of blood that's forming on his palm, whipping it on his already dirty T-shirt.

"Come on, let's not waste our time on that fag." The blue-haired says to his friends. The three of them walked away as they giggle loudly as if they just did the most awesome thing ever.